


Oathbound

by xStoryteller



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: And Everything Nice, Gen, I am sekiro trash and want more lore, Scars, also wounds, dlc material, rated M for sekiro setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xStoryteller/pseuds/xStoryteller
Summary: More people from Wolf's past find their way to the temple, shedding light on different aspects of the clan and himself--Als known as tales from the temple





	1. Encounter

What a rotten shinobi one must be, to literally fall from grace. This thought pained Crane as she lay at the bottom of the valley. With the last of her arsenal, she had been able to hole herself up away from the monkeys and other threats surrounding her. Her view was foggy and she pondered about why she had even bothered.

On the way back from her failed mission in a neighboring state, she had been caught off guard by one of the musketeers now roaming the valley. One shot was all it took to make her fall. Bones cracked and flesh tore as she found her way to the bottom. Now she wondered what the sounds of her failure would have been in front of Father.

It had been her second day of decay when an approaching figure tore her out of her blur. The presence was something completely different from the animals that surrounded her previously. Something driven and lead by a goal. The leaves surrounding her were brushed aside. Her eyes narrowed involuntarily at the light shining through she hadn’t been able to see those last days. She wasn’t able to discern the person against this light. If this was how the gods wanted her to leave, she accepted her fate. What good was a failing shinobi who couldn’t return to their master?

“Crane.”

The voice sounded eerily familiar. As her eyes adjusted to the light, a tattered scarf, so old it was almost falling apart, showed itself.

“Wolf.”

Her jaw clenched. She did not know whether this was a good or ill fate put upon her. Both their gazes met. Not a single more word was exchanged between the two. Crane readied the remainder of her dying body – Wolf’s presence could either be a lucky encounter or her final moments, depending on Father. Her eyes studied every inch of his marked face, searching for clues, even the smallest as to what his purpose here was. In vain, as both had been trained the same and showed no sign as to their true intentions. Crane’s left hand still clutched at the gush in her middle, wet blood still seeping through ever so slightly in spite of her best efforts to stop the bleeding.

Almost as sudden as he had appeared though, the other vanished again. Her eyes adjusted back to the darkness and a strong breath escaped her mouth. How foolish of her to have hoped for help – and what a lowly hope for her profession as well. She raised her head a little as she lifted her left hand to look upon it. Traces of fresh red blood mixed with encrusted pools of dried, old blood. This wouldn’t go on for much longer

 

The sun was still high above, guessing from the entry point between the leaves, as yet another visitor graced Crane. Now however, she also heard them coming. By now she had made her peace. Whatever came would be the best for her. Her vision was getting worse by the minute and the burning feeling of her wounds grew ever so harsher. her body had lumped to the relatively unscathed side.  She could feel her own eyes flickering upon the second person laying their gaze upon her.

“My, my, he was right.”

A woman’s voice reached her in dampened tones. A second figure came into view, as well as a smell Crane would later only be able to describe as stagnant. A smile found its way onto her face, not in humor, but more in ironic acceptance of her fate at the bottom of the valley.

“Now we can’t have you dying on us, friend”, a hand reached out to her own right.

With a flash, she raised it, revealing the wakuzashi and pointing it at her throat. Both of the other figures backed away – even though the blade was shaking weakly in her hand. They seemed to discuss how to proceed in a hushed tone, as Crane’s own fading gaze switched between their silhouettes.

Just as suddenly as they had seemed to have come to a conclusion, her wrist was seized and the blade easily wrangled out of it, as a great force grappled at hear body and lifted it. By now the blood loss had made it almost impossible for Crane to fight back.

 

 

 

With a sharp inhale, she jerked upwards. Her sudden motion was answered by a stinging pain in her middle, to which she instinctively grabbed at the wound. To Crane’s surprise, she didn’t feel wetness nor flesh, but rather soft bandages. The near sound of carving rang in her ears.

“Just as I was about to freshen up your bandages”

It was the woman she had heard before. With a deadpan gaze, Crane turned her head towards the source of the voice.

A dark haired woman, clad in delicate yet simple cloths, entered what looked like a long forgotten temple. A temple she had seemingly been laid down into to…rest?

The woman drew closer and Crane instinctively braced herself. At the sight of this, the woman knelt down. She smiled softly at her.

“No need to fret. You are safe here”

The temple was filled to to the brim with both shoddy statues of Buddha and Ofuda. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been properly tended to in some time, although it showed traces of people inhabiting it. Only now did she spot the hunched over figure of a man to her far right, sitting in front of the small light of a candle and carving away.

“Where am I?”

“A simple temple in the mountains. Though by now you could also call it a safe haven for people like us.”

“Us?”

The woman gave a small chuckle.

“The ones tied to the Wolf. Upon his return he gave me word of your location in the valley.”

Crane averted her gaze. She wasn’t sure what to think of his actions, though at the end it seemed they had been for her own good. Under different circumstances – and in accordance with most of their training – she would have been left to die. Gracious colleagues would’ve maybe even given her the honor of killing her off.

“You may call me Emma”, the woman’s voice interrupted her pondering, “I’m a disciple of Dogen, but even to me it was no easy task of getting you from the brink of death.” She smiled again, obviously in anticipation for Crane to reciprocate. She didn’t.

“I thank you”, those were her only, emotionlessly uttered words. A pause followed, in which only the hammering and occasional coughing of the Sculptor could be heard. Emma sighed.

“I would guess people of the same profession would have a similar attitude. How foolish of me”, as she spoke, she stood up and moved closer to Crane. Although the latter still wasn’t sure what to think of her, it seemed as though she bore no ill intent, so she laid down for the procedure to get done with. With soft, elegant hands and motions, Lady Emma began to unwrap the soaked bandages from her larger wound. A troubled expression found its way to the physicians face.

“I hate to tell you this, but the wound is looking rather….unsettling.” More obvious words couldn’t have been spoken to Crane. She had lain with untreated injuries for two days, large injuries at that, amidst dirt and animals and other things of unclean nature – nothing that would facilitate healing. The laying woman didn’t respond and only gave an occasional flinch as the other went about treating her. Different ointments and soaked bandages beneath dry ones were applies, other parts rinsed yet again to taint the bowl of fresh water with milky dirt.

With a deep sigh and a wipe away at her brow, Emma signaled the end of the procedure. Crane sat herself up again, fingers pressing softly and the bandaged gush in her middle. Although the stinging sensation of different ointments tore away at the wound, it felt at least a little better than before. Her thoughts were disrupted by the physician’s washed hand being held out to her.

“You could use a little exercise. Let’s walk, shall we?” A stare at the hand followed, only for the wounded to ignore it to get up. She rolled over on all fours, a small grunt escaping her – a shinobi had to handle worse than the predicament she found herself in at the moment. From the corner of her eye she could notice the other closing her eyes in quiet disbelief. No outsider would understand.

Even though she had been freshly bandaged, Crane couldn’t seem to hold herself upright. The tension it brought to her wounds wouldn’t allow for her to stand up to her full size. Hunched over, she seemed much smaller than Lady Emma, in spite of her probably being a few inches taller. Emma led towards the entrance of the temple, gentle sunlight casting its rays through the generous main arch. The scent of fresh air, as well as a few stray red leaves found their way in and invited to the outside world.

“Yet another guest,” the sculptor’s hoarse, deep voice tore away at the silence enveloping the temple and its residents, “Another who escaped death.”

Silence followed, as Emma wanted the new arrival to respond for herself and Crane didn’t find the right words. The hammering stopped for a few. The man turned his unkempt head ever so slightly towards the two, showing milky eyes and a glimpse at his ragged face.

“It is as if this place calls out to shinobi. You too seem to have been tied to the Wolf, whether you like it or not.”

“Where is he?” Her words almost echoed through the silent, statue-filled temple.

“Pursuing his journey. His master has been captured and loyal shinobi must fight for their masters” His words caused Crane’s heart to ache. She had been supposed to be found a master by Father. Just like the others, her training had been completed, but for some reason she had been sent away for another recon mission. She had been made to see the others been given their masters or other dutiful tasks of benefit to the clan, but for some reason Father had been stalling when it came to Crane.

“You too will surely find your fate here. Many already have”, the sculptor turned away, the sound of carving wood picking back up, “This place calls out to those bound by blood.”

Crane’s gaze left hanging on the man’s back. He spoke in riddles, but many people she had known had been doing this. All those feeling mighty had done it, only to fall flat, but for some reasons those spoken words would always ring true.

Without another word to him, she turned towards Lady Emma, who was patiently waiting next to her. The latter lifted her arm in a guiding motion towards the entrance of the temple. As she marched towards the outside, Crane’s eyes had trouble in adapting to the brightness of the sun flooding in. She did not know for how long she had lay there recovering, adding to her two days in darkness beneath the guarding foliage of her hideout. Squinting, she took careful, small steps out on the squeaking wood planks beneath her. Her hip was badly bruised, if it didn’t have other unseen damage, and made it harder for her to walk properly. In spite of her pride as a shinobi, Crane knew that her recovery would be a long one – both physically and psychologically.

On the outside, a small yard of stones and dirty, framed by large clusters of bamboo, came into view. Here and there larger stones had been laid out to form small ponds, adorned with large stone lanterns. Several large maple trees were shedding their leaves at stronger gusts of wind, mixing in with the faintly falling snow. The temple was situated higher up on the mountains, not too far from the valley itself it seemed, so the temperatures made it easier for cold, dry snow to settle in. The immediate outside of the temple was almost littered with Ofuda Crane had spotted on the inside before, some seemingly so old so that their writing hat completely faded and the elements had almost torn them to shred. On the upper layers however were some that looked fresh, written in thick black ink so rich that they seemed to be put up mere hours ago. Further to her right, she spotted an opening in the bamboo with a larger shrine, next to which a figure stood. As Crane took more steps towards the yard, following behind Emma, the figure moved towards the two women.

As the figure drew closer, it turned to be a rugged man clad in shoddy armor, his armor almost falling off of him, face half hidden behind an iron mask. The less distance between them, the stronger the faint smell of a heavy, earthy scent grew.

“How are you feeling?”

Crane felt no need to answer – her weak, hunched-over posture as well as her strained walk should be indication enough to the other in what a state she was in. The other lowered his head, dry, sunken-in eyes looking at her.

“I wouldn’t have expected less of one of your profession. The other is quite the same.”

“Hanbei helped bringing you here”, Emma spoke after him, looking at the man. Yet another Crane couldn’t help but feel indebted to, again, much to her pride’s malcontent.

“I thank you”, she finally spoke yet again, her voice being stern and cold, in spite of her condition. Hanbei shook his head.

“Helping is the least I can do in my own predicament”, he averted his gaze for a second, raising his right hand to his mask-hidden face as the left rested upon the hilt of his sword, “And I doubt I can ask the same favor of you as Wolf. Both thanks to your wound and with the outcome of my last attempt.”

Crane wondered as to what he meant, but felt no need to pursue this question now, especially considering they had barely met. Surely time would reveal Hanbei’s so-called predicament.

“Will you tell me your name?”

The battered-down shinobi could feel the gaze of both her saviors resting on her as the rotten man spoke.

“Crane.”

Her answer was short and swift. How else was she supposed to respond, too? Crane was the only name she had ever been given and had been all the names she’d ever needed. The only name she had ever heard Father and the others use.

 “Good to know you’re more eager to talk than the other”, Hanbei nodded, his left hand moving his sword ever so slightly to draw attention to it, “Once you’ve healed, you can feel free to train with me. It would only be beneficial to your skills.”

“About that”, Lady Emma spoke before Crane could spot this as a sentence to answer upon, “Your wounds were rather severe. I am unsure when you’ll be able to…move and go about your business.”

Crane furrowed her brow as her lips curled in agony. She averted her gaze from the two, almost in shame. The pain in her middle flared up again, almost in response to her thoughts about home.

“I don’t have any more business to tend to.” As she saw it, she was a failure and the rest of the clan almost certainly wrote her off as a war tragedy. Tragedy in the loosest sense shinobi could think of. And if they didn’t do that, was returning even an option?

“What’s your story then?”

Hanbei’s voice interrupted her train of thought yet again. He raised his chin ever so slightly.

“We all seem to have some purpose to serve in this grander scheme of things surrounding the Divine Heir.”

“The Divine Heir?”

Crane had heard about the child, how he was the Wolf’s master, but shinobi rarely got the chance to see each other’s masters. Rather, once shinobi were “gifted” to their masters, they would rarely come into touch with their clansmen. Gruesomely enough, most met again for more somber reasons. It was common for masters to start conflicts with each other, only to have former brethren battle it out for them – in an attempt to protect their masters from each other.

For Father’s clan, most shinobi were given to higher-ranking generals and royalty – it wasn’t unheard of from other clans to have their shinobi given to the highest bidder, new nobility risen to power in other provinces still so green behind their ears that they lost their shinobi for drunken battles at best. Times were rough, but at least Ashina province was good to this clan.

“He’s been taken by Ashina’s forces”, Lady Emma folded her hands in front of her, a concerned look marking her face, “Wolf has been in pursuit ever since their escape from the Moonview Tower.”

“A loyal Wolf”, Hanbei added, tracing the edge of his mask with his thumb in thought. Crane let her eyes wander between the two, both of them now staying silent. The snow softly falling from the sky piled up in a thin layer beneath them.

Lady Emma was the first to pick up the conversation again.

“Please, give me word whenever your wounds hurt. I have enough supplies here to treat you adequately”, a small grin and words spoken slower for more weight followed, “You don’t have to suffer here.”

Crane felt as though this was a stab at another matter entirely, but both she and Hanbei remained silent.


	2. Stagnation

Even though the snow kept gently falling for what seemed like an eternity, the outside didn’t feel particularly cold. Crane had come to rest next to the small shrine a little off to the side of the yard and started up towards the crown of the bamboo thickets that framed the clearing. The tall shoots swayed silently, only the rustling of leaves to be heard and the only break from white and green being a stray maple leaf falling from the trees littered throughout and around the bamboo. She was deep in thought, eyes blinking slowly and the grey sky visible ever so slightly through the bamboo leaves.   
Almost intentionally audible, Hanbei moved towards her. Without turning her head, her eyes glanced off to her left to meet his. He had come back from lunch with Emma, taking up his post to the right of the shrine again, but this time sitting down instead of his usual standing and waiting. Today was the day he wanted to try to get more out of this woman. She had spent long enough of a time without a word to both him and Emma.  
“I know your name, yet I still don’t know your story, Crane.” His arms rested on his knees, hands falling gently in his lap, as he too stared up at the winter sky. The woman herself brought her gaze back towards the crowns of bamboo.  
“What do you care for a shinobi’s story? A wounded one at that?”  
“You’re not the first of your profession here. And that last part makes it all the more interesting to me.”  
Crane fell silent. These were the first words she spoke ever since being introduced to Hanbei and Emma. Hanbei let her be; she didn’t seem the type to open up a lot. All the movement she had done so far was from her bed to this spot she was now resting in. They had tried asking her questions, making remarks and the like to encourage her to talk, but Crane had remained in her milky silence.  
“I fell.”  
A gust of wind blew cold winter air through the snow-laden bamboos and trees, making chunks of white fall down to the foliage of the thin undergrowth. Hanbei detached the sword from his side and laid it across his crossed legs, tracing the shaft with the fingers of his right hand before letting it rest on top of it.  
“The gunmen in the valley?”  
“Yes.”  
Hanbei made a clicking noise, shaking his head ever so slightly.  
“Nothing to feel bad about. Emma and myself almost fell victim to them too if it hadn’t been for the Wolf’s warning and telling us about another path.”  
Crane fell silent again. Her silence was almost an indicator him that the frustration of what had happened lay heavy with her. Hanbei felt some sort of compassion; he himself had experienced failure without redemption, and it had left him in a deep pit for a long time.  
“How long were you down there?”  
“I saw a night pass by.”  
They both fell silent again as they stared separately at the sky, both keeping to their side of the small shrine.  
“You must be very resilient to have clung onto your life in the state you were in”, he finally picked the conversation back up again. Somewhere, crows croaked their tearing cries. Hanbei searched the skies for their flight, but couldn’t find them.  
“I don’t know.” Crane’s words were quieter than before, for once showing her true uncertainty about her situation to others.  
“You don’t need to worry about it”, Hanbei stood back up, fastening his blade back to his waist and walking over to her side. The shinobi’s hollow but nonetheless piercing eyes looked up at him. The feeling of her gaze made him feel uneasy, but he hadn’t lived through is experiences to be swayed by these mere eyes.  
“The gods may be merciless, but our fates have all brought us here.”  
Beneath his mask, he gave a compassionate smile, unseen to the woman in front of him. After what Emma had told him about the other Shinobi and his master, he had offered himself and his undying body as a tool for training. It had become his new purpose after his arrival here, an arrival after a long journey of searching for purpose yet again. From the bottom of his soul, he felt as though what was happening to them here was part of a greater scheme. Only the gods would know.  
“What brought you here?”  
Hanbei found the woman’s eyes scanning his appearance for clues, but they both knew that nothing on his outside gave any indication of where he came from. The yukata beneath his armor was too torn and faded away from long exposure to sunlight, dirt and the other elements. His armor itself bore no colors or insignia of allegiance either. It had been a long time since he had sworn and shown his allegiance to someone.  
“The same as you, though not as literally”, Hanbei crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I fell. But I didn’t fulfill my duty and found myself wandering.”  
He paused, something about his outlook seemed hesitant, struggling almost. It had become a part of him, but somewhere another part of him was still hesitant about telling people about his origin. He still felt disgust at himself for what he had become, even in light of it serving a greater purpose now.  
“I should’ve died a long time ago, during the revolution”, he added.  
“But you did not.”  
“Yes, I did not. Or rather, I did and then didn’t. It is a difficult matter to explain, in all honesty”, a small chuckle followed his words, “I’ll try it sometime. Once you’re back to health, I will help you pass time, too.”  
“Pass time?”  
“Drawing one’s blade always helps to keep it honed. Surely you will want to test your skills then, prepare for what comes afterwards. Do you have someplace to return to?”  
Crane fell silent, her gaze falling to the ground covered in few snowflakes that had made it past the leaves of bamboo high above. This was the answer he had expected, the answer almost all of the temple’s residents gave.  
“I do not know.”  
“Don’t know?”  
Almost angry with Hanbei’s further questioning, she looked up at him, a glare close to menacing in her eyes.  
“Duty binds me, but my fate is not known to my brethren. You could have left me there to die, for all I know it would have the same outcome.”  
Hanbei stared at her, he himself looking almost offended at her offense to his questions. It was rare for people to not feel grateful for living. Yet he stood here in front of her, having felt the same way some time ago. As he grasped the hypocrisy of his own train of thought from then and how she was the same now, he sighed.  
“You shinobi have always been a weird bunch, haven’t you?”  
“I did not ask for your help.”  
“You did not, that much is true. But you shouldn’t throw this chance away now, either”, he turned and walked back to his own side of the shrine, “Maybe you can still return to your duty.”  
She didn’t respond. For Crane, the conversation seemed to be over. Hanbei sighed silently into his mask; he didn’t admit it towards Crane – or Wolf, for that matter – that he found their conversations to be tiresome ever so often. Emma had told him that talking about things that lay heavy on one’s mind helped with healing, both physically and mentally, and he had tried his best to help with that. Sometimes, he felt as if he was the nurse to Emma’s physician. With all the broken people that had come to this temple, the Lady could use a helping hand with taking care of everyone.  
“Lady Emma told me that talking is the medicine of the soul.” Hanbei adjusted his weight on his feet, leaning forwards so as to look over to Crane over his crossed arms. The woman had gone back to staring at the sky, the only reaction he could gather to his words being a furrowing of her brow he noticed ever so slightly. His own brows followed. What a bothersome person to take care of. He leaned back again, tapping his arm with his finger in slight annoyance. Some people were too stubborn for their own good. He wrestled his mind over something to say to Crane to make her talk more, or at the least get some sort of reaction out of her.  
“Say, Crane, are you allowed to pray?” was Hanbei’s question after an eternity of silence between the two. He could hear her turn her head in his direction and rejoiced in quietude at his success.  
“Praying?”  
“Yes. This is a temple after all”, he scratched the underside of his chin absentmindedly, “Maybe you’d rather talk to them than me.”  
Hanbei scrambled in his pouches, having remembered about something he had been given a long time ago. The item had called itself back into his mind at the realization of Crane’s situation being almost the same as his.  
From the depths of his garments, he procured a string of small white prayer beads. Some pearls had already lost some tiny fragments of their color, but to Hanbei it was just an endearing sign of the devotion he had had for the practice. He remembered days long ago, when he had gone off to travel again after protecting someone who had given him shelter. It had been a present, meant to give him peace of mind for his travels and one day find his purpose after his seemingly endless journey of wandering before.  
“You should have this.”  
Hanbei had come over to Crane’s side of the shrine again, extending the Ojuzu out to her. Her gaze fixated on him again, though now less threatening and more curious.  
“Why?”  
Her question was as short as he had become used to.  
“It has helped me in difficult situations. Maybe it’ll do the same to you”, he gave the beads in his hand a small shake, indicating again for her to take it, “You should have it now.”  
Her eyes darted to the Ojuzu and back to him. With another look towards them, she hesitantly took them into her hands. In his mind, Hanbei rejoiced at the small reaction he had been able to get from her. It was a step in the right direction.  
“Thank you.”  
Crane’s words were spoken without looking at him. It didn’t matter to him, he had gotten his small victory of the day. 

 

“How did it go?”  
Emma had come back from another visit back to the castle as she approached Hanbei. Crane had retreated back to the inside of the temple, as the light slowly faded from the sky and gave way to a starless sky above the mountain.  
Hanbei replied with a sigh.  
“Stubborn still, but at least I found one thing she was willing to do.”  
“That being?”  
“Praying, I would assume.” Emma chuckled in slight confusion.  
“Why only assume?” The other shrugged.  
“I gave her my Ojuzu. I don’t know if she’ll use it, though. She only took it.”  
Emma sighed, too.  
“It’s something, I suppose”, she answered, “I’ll try to get her to open up, too.”  
“Why all the hassle, though? Isn’t it enough to have Wolf taking care of the Divine Heir?” Hanbei crossed his arms as he spoke.  
“In all honesty, I cannot read any of them”, her words grew quieter, more wary, as her gaze went towards the softly illuminated temple. From the outside, only the silhouette of the Sculptor still carving away in candlelight was to be seen, as the sky had already taken on a hue between dark grey and blue.  
“I cannot fully trust Wolf yet. The shinobi are a queer bunch of their own.”  
“I couldn’t help but notice.”  
“Getting her to talk might determine what I have to do with him, should my suspicions confirm themselves.”  
“Suspicions?”  
Emma glared at him from the corner of her eyes, worry marking her face.  
“I’ve witnessed it once before and I will make sure it won’t happen again.”  
Silence followed.  
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady Emma” Hanbei finally added. She responded with a light laugh.  
“Dear Hanbei, I’ve known you for quite some time now”, her eyes grew piercing and stern, “I’ll tell you when the situation demands it from me.”


End file.
